


Cheddar

by theclaravoyant



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, mild references to homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theclaravoyant/pseuds/theclaravoyant
Summary: Raymond Holt had never considered himself a dog person. In fact, he was not particularly fond of any kind of animal, though he had a certain level of respect for the more noble amongst them. He’d certainly never been of the mind to bring one into his home, where it would shed hair, chew furniture, and defecate. This all changed, however, the night he and Kevin went to visit Kevin’s parents for dinner.-The (fluffy, I promise) story of how Cheddar came into their lives.





	Cheddar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AchillesMonkey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AchillesMonkey/gifts).



> Did I just write almost 3K of Holt-Kevin-Cheddar backstory? Why yes, yes I did.
> 
> For more of my Holt/Kevin check out [this collection of ficlets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705774/chapters/33983831), and/or feel free to prompt me (here or @theclaravoyant on tumblr). In the meantime, enjoy!

Raymond Holt had never considered himself a dog person. In fact, he was not particularly fond of any kind of animal, though he had a certain level of respect for the more noble amongst them. He’d certainly never been of the mind to bring one into his home, where it would shed hair, chew furniture, and defecate. This all changed, however, the night he and Kevin went to visit Kevin’s parents for dinner. 

The trip there had been terribly, painfully awkward. Kevin was quite sure from the start that his parents would not respond well, which was part of the reason why he had not come out for so many years. He tried to embrace the power of civility, diplomacy, but Raymond could see it was breaking his heart, the way his parents skirted around the issue. They shook Kevin’s hand but not his partner’s. They talked to Kevin about his work, but steered away from anything about how he and Raymond had met; about where he was living; about whether he was happy. They talked about his old girlfriend; about his cousin’s wedding; even, once, about an interesting article on AIDS. Kevin reminded them that such a topic was not polite dinner table conversation, and the meal continued in one of the most painfully awkward near-silences Raymond had ever experienced. He longed to take Kevin’s hand, but in this moment, felt like it could have only made things worse. As it was, retiring to the lounge for brandy was almost too much of a relief. 

It was a relief not only for the burning alcohol down his throat, promising a pleasurable level of intoxicated calm soon to come. Nor was it only for the fact that this was the last part of the evening and he had a feeling Kevin’s parents were almost as eager to have them – or him, at least – out of the house as they – or he, at least – wanted to be gone. No, the most relieving part was watching Kevin’s face, when his family dog, a corgi named Alexander, trotted into the room and bounded up to him. They must not have seen each other in months, but watching Kevin’s face light up, his shoulders loosen, his whole body relax… it was the most relaxed Raymond had seen him all night, all day, even all week while they’d been waiting for the occasion to roll around. He couldn’t begrudge Kevin the dopey smile, or even the fact that he scooped the dog onto his lap for a moment and whispered into his fur. He could only imagine what it must have been like, growing up in such a homophobic household with only the dog for his true companion. The things Alexander must have heard. Raymond wondered how long Kevin had known, how long he’d been hiding it. He’d never asked, and Kevin had never been wont to tell. Maybe this was why. 

Then his parents came into the room. Alexander went back to the floor and Kevin’s wall went up again, but he wasn’t quite as uncomfortable as before. He took their slights and not-so-friendly reminders in his stride – after all, they were not the only people from whom he’d heard such things – and while they didn’t quite slide off him as effortlessly as water off a duck’s back, he got through it. He persisted in inviting Raymond into the conversation at every opportunity. He brought up the fact that having a long distance relationship was hard on them both, that John Phillip Sousa was one of his favourite artists, that he was a police officer – a profession which, on any man not currently dating him, would have made his parents proud. They seemed to get the message in the end, that he was serious and this was serious, whether they liked it or not (and they decidedly did not). Still, over his life he had learnt to accept the small victories, and when he finally returned to Gertie’s passenger seat it was with a much stronger heart than that with which he’d gone in. 

“Are you okay?” he asked Raymond, reaching for his hand on the gearstick. Raymond frowned. 

“Me?” he wondered, as if the very thought of Kevin checking in on him was incredulous. “They’re _your_ parents.”

“Well, yes, but _you_ are the one they were ignoring and speaking over, pushing you out all the time.” 

“Only because I represent something they don’t like about you.” 

Kevin sighed and looked down at his hands, recalling the feel of Alexander’s aging fur beneath his fingers and how long it had been. How much unexpected relief the touch had brought him, and why.  
  
“I suppose you’re right,” he admitted, and felt his heart sink. He’d been so focused on how his parents had rejected Raymond, he hadn’t quite let it hit that they were rejecting him – this part of him, anyway, and the distinction wasn’t much comfort. After years of waiting for this night, for the other shoe to drop, he found he didn’t have much of a reaction to it except an ache in his chest, and a quiet sigh.

“I’m sorry,” Raymond said, softly. 

“Can we just go home, please?” 

Raymond had never particularly cared for spooning, but that night he decided to make an exception. Kevin eventually fell asleep in his embrace, but he stayed up, his mind spinning in thought. Being a well-off white man working in the arts, it was not often Kevin had to face such devastating rejection – not as often or as devastating as Raymond himself often did, at least. In a way, Raymond wasn’t sure how to deal with it. His own mother had turned out to be quite fiercely protective of him, in her own way, and a mother’s love was a powerful tool against the slings and arrows of a society that was eager to throw them at people like them. A tool that Kevin, apparently, did not have. In the face of this realisation, Raymond felt angry, and he had a good mind to type a long and strongly worded letter to Mr & Mrs Cozner and march back to their house to deliver it in person – and he quite possibly would have done, had his arms not been occupied with more important things. But he also felt a little helpless. Kevin had always been, or at least tried to be, a sanctuary for him in a world of slurs and snide remarks, of threats, and even violence. Now more than ever, Raymond knew he had to return the favour, but he was not sure how. Telling him didn’t feel like enough. There must be something more he had to offer; something he could _do_ to reassure… 

He drifted to sleep with a plan formulating in his head. 

-

“Let’s go for a drive.”

“Hm?”

A week had passed since the dinner, and then two, and Kevin was still a little despondent. Fortunately, the final machinations of Raymond’s plan had finally fallen into place. It was not unusual for the two of them to take Gertie to the country for a day trip or a weekend away when they got the chance, and so, though it took a little coaxing, Raymond soon convinced Kevin that it would be good for him to get out of the city. When he finally agreed, it was difficult not to spoil the surprise with his own excitement. He played one of Kevin’s favourite Tchaikovsky pieces and smiled to himself, and as they pulled into the driveway of a rustic, out-of-the-way cellar-door style restaurant, Kevin gave him a quizzical smile. 

“Raymond?” he wondered. “What is this?” 

“Lunch,” Raymond replied, but a hint of what could only be called mischief in his eyes confirmed Kevin’s suspicions, that there was most definitely something afoot.

“Alright, I’ll play along,” he promised, and followed Raymond into the restaurant. It was small and homey, and they were served directly by Walter, the man of the house, and his wife Maureen. As they served, they engaged in polite small talk about the house and its history, interesting nearby sites, and what had brought the two of them out that day. This was another behaviour not typical of Raymond, and Kevin got the distinct feeling he was about to be the victim of some sort of prank, though for the life of him, he could not think what. 

And then, the pitter-patter of tiny paws alerted him to a fifth presence in the room. 

[A bold-chested corgi with bright eyes](https://obrienphotofarm.photoshelter.com/image/I0000WtDjfMgo7C0) stood astutely in the doorway, staring up at Kevin as if he thought it quite a bold move that this stranger was eating in his house, and was looking forward to an explanation. Or some of the food, perhaps. Either would probably do.

“Ah, there he is!” Walter cried, waving Raymond and Kevin’s attention toward the dog. “This is Mack, he fancies himself something of a guard dog, but really, he just wants the end of your sausage. Stop trying to sucker the guests, Mack. Not for you.” 

Mack sat, but transferred his gaze to Raymond, ever hopeful. Kevin couldn’t help but smile at the poor thing. Raymond wouldn’t be caught dead feeding a dog at the table, especially not against house rules. It would take more than charisma and adorably stubby legs to win him over on that one. But of course Raymond had better things to do than engage in a stand-off with Mack over sausage. He turned back to Walter and Maureen, and asked; 

“Is Mack the father of the litter?” 

“No, no, the uncle,” Maureen informed him. “He’s dear Bertha’s brother. She’d usually be out here too, except of course that she’s with the pups right now. They’re locked in the back room; get into terrible trouble when we don’t have our eye on ‘em, you see.”

“Of course,” Raymond said, and nodded. “Are we still able to meet them?” 

“Absolutely. If the two of you want to finish eating and wash your hands, you can come right on through. We’ll just make the arrangements if you’ll give us a mo’.” 

Walter and Maureen busied themselves and Kevin took the opportunity to lean over toward Raymond. 

“Meet the pups?” Kevin interrupted. “Raymond, are we- are we buying a dog?” 

“Well, if we find one we like, yes.“ Raymond smiled across the table, and brushed Kevin’s hand. “We have a home together, don’t we? A home should have a dog, should it not?” 

Kevin found himself speechless. He knew Raymond’s opinion on this had not previously been nearly so enthusiastic, and he couldn’t help but think… no, he knew. When he looked at Raymond he knew, this particular choice of surprise, this particular choice of _dog,_ had something to do with his beloved Alexander. Though it was unexpected, he found himself quite looking forward to having a dog again, and as he followed Walter and Maureen’s invitation into the other room, he found himself entertaining the fantasy of scooping all six little furballs into the car. Somehow he doubted Raymond would go so far as letting all six of them run amok at home, though. But which one should they take? The mostly-black one, chewing on what appeared to be a balled-up sock? The red one in the corner, napping upside down? Any of the ones currently tumbling over themselves to get to his and Raymond’s feet?

“Hello there,” he greeted softly, trying to pet as many of them as he could. Raymond picked up the one nearest him, smiled at the way her legs paddled in the air, and adjusted his hold in case she felt unsteady. The pup’s mother – [Bertha](https://i.pinimg.com/236x/5b/f4/9c/5bf49c3988676886385770571457b5e1--dream-life-pembroke-welsh-corgi.jpg), a soft-coated sable – hauled herself to her exhausted mother-of-six’s feet and plopped herself by his side, just in case. 

“That there is Bruchetta,” Walter explained, pointing at the pup Raymond had chosen. “There fighting over you, Mr Cozner, are Brie, Moscato, and Cheddar. Sleepy-head up the back there is Brandy, of course, and Gaeta – like the olive, yes – playing. Oh here she comes, joining us now, are we? Watch your fingers, she might want to give them a little taste.” 

“Which one is… the best?” Raymond asked, glancing between them all. Maureen pouted. 

“That depends what for,” she said, sounding a little skeptical.

“Excuse him,” Kevin interrupted. “He’s not much of a dog person. We don’t intend to breed or sell, he’s just wondering which one of these lovely fellows you think would be best for us.”

“Of course. Forgive my vagueness,” Raymond corrected himself. “I meant to say that I assume some of them have certain proclivities as regards training. Biting, barking and such…” 

For the rest of the afternoon, the four of them bandied back and fourth about who was best at what, training techniques, care requirements and all sorts. Pups were picked up, passed around, watching in awe, spoken to, and even playfully raced, but finally, they had made their selection. Brie was to be coming home with them. 

“I’ll fetch her bed and things,” Maureen offered, “Walter’ll be back in a mo’ with the paperwork. If you’d like to stay with the pups til the last, take a seat on that old sofa. They’re welcome to climb all over it. I’d offer you a blanket for your bums were they not already covered in fur.” 

She smiled and took her leave, and Kevin and Raymond, as per their invitation, took a seat on the sofa and continued to watch the pups play. Brie wandered over their laps as if looking for a way to get back down to her siblings. Occasionally she barked and whined. They’d already had one of the litter leave, so perhaps she knew what was coming. Kevin heartened himself with the promise that he would give her lots of belly rubs and ensure she had the best of love and care, and they’d socialise her with other dogs so she would have companionship of her own kind, and- and- and what was that? 

Kevin looked down at a strange weight on his foot. The weight was, of course, a corgi pup. Black and tan. Cheddar, if he recalled correctly. Cheddar tilted his head up at Kevin, and Kevin found himself mimicking the pup. This was apparently not enough for the dog, who turned around with an adorable wiggle of the behind, and pawed at Kevin’s pants as if to climb them. Kevin picked him up. 

“Want to say goodbye to your sister, hm?” he murmured, but thought the two of then did rub noses, Brie still seemed more interested in going back the way she had come. Cheddar was quite content to flop down in Kevin’s lap, asking for a belly rub.

Raymond frowned. He knew it was silly, that dogs didn’t have complex intelligences humans often assigned to them, but it was hard to ignore the fact that he had to keep one eye on the dog they’d chosen through a rigorous examination, to stop her jumping from the couch and hurting herself to get back to her family, when another seemed – dare he say it – to have chosen their family instead. It was no doubt the memory of Kevin and Alexander that was making him misty-eyed, but wasn’t it that memory that had brought them here in the first place?

“Uh oh!” Walter cried as he walked back into the room. “What have we here?” 

“I’m afraid we may have…” 

“Un-chosen?” Walter supplied. “Don’t worry, this happens all the time. It’s hard to leave ‘em, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” Raymond acknowledged. “But this time, I think little Brie may have ‘unchosen’ us, as it were.”

He scooped Brie up from his lap and put her on the ground. She scampered back to Bruschetta and Moscato with glee. In Kevin’s lap, Cheddar gave Raymond a quizzical look, much like the one Kevin himself was giving him, as if asking whether Cheddar was to be put back in the pen as well. 

“Raymond-“ Kevin started, about to build his defence. 

“We’ll take Cheddar instead, if you don’t mind,” Raymond informed Walter. 

“Are you sure?” he prompted. “He’s a bit of a mischief maker, that one, though he might not look it.” 

“He’ll fit right in,” Raymond promised. “So long as he doesn’t ruin the furniture, he’s fine with me. Kevin?”

“Yes! Right, absolutely.” Kevin’s cheeks flushed, excited, as Walter commenced the paperwork. They signed Cheddar out and Maureen exchanged Brie’s things for his, and Kevin insisted on carrying his box to the car and riding with it on his lap. Maureen brushed Cheddar’s head and gave him a little kiss, then brushed Kevin’s arm.

“The two of you are kindred spirits, my dear,” she said. “I’ve no doubt you’ve made the right choice. You’ll be very happy together. Send us pictures of our little boy, won’t you? I do hope he won’t be too much trouble.” 

“We will,” Kevin promised.

And they did, every year for the rest of Cheddar’s happy, mischievous life.


End file.
